Mochaccino
by Graph
Summary: Spoiler-free oneshot written for this prompt: "..a Miego story of how they meet." Warnings for slight swearing and slight suggestiveness.


Mia hated the lines at Starbucks.

Some lines are worth waiting in, like the line to see a new movie or ride a roller coaster. Some are unpleasant, but necessary, such as the line to receive a flu shot. But some lines seem to have been created solely for the purpose of torture, like the line for a bus or snack bar, and such was the line for Starbucks. After all, it was nothing more than a group of tightly-packed businessmen and snobby college students, crabby and craving their morning pep.

Despite the army of employees wandering the store, the one cashier Mia had chosen to wait for had the reflexes of a banana slug. He was a chubby, just-a-bit-past-middle-aged man with glasses the thickness of a pencil. His tacky green apron clung tightly to his flabby waist, and he sniffled and sneezed constantly, barely missing his patrons' coffee cups. The young lawyer had waited a grand total of 57 minutes for a chance to buy a mocha from him, yet about 12 people separated her from the counter, and she wondered how someone could have unlimited access to coffee and still be so slow.

And as the perfect accent to her already stressful first day at work, the man behind her was in some sort of terrible rush. She could all but feel his disapproving stare burning into the back of her neck, and, while she hadn't actually _seen_ him, he was no different than any other sociopath cubicle-dweller before him. The only way to avoid the wrath of these people was to already know exactly what you were ordering, and Mia thanked God she knew that much.

There was, of course, one other reason that he might stare, but Mia preferred not to think about that. Considering her luck today, though, she could all but guarantee he'd be one of those office perverts who tried to stimulate some kind of (probably unsavory) dialogue with her.

Gently, he tapped her on the shoulder, stifling a laugh as she flinched in surprise.

"Where are you off to today, Kitten?"

Mia spun around, still shaken from the sudden, forceful tone of his voice. He smiled at her, a sinister, smug, and fairly unnecessary smirk. Her eyes met his, and she trembled under his formidable stare.

He was a tall, Latino-ish man, slightly tan and well built. His black hair had been grown out and spiked backwards, creating a sort of mane. Slight black stubble traced the frame of his jaw, and two silver earrings pierced his left ear. He was dressed in a red silk shirt and tan pinstripe vest, a black tie knotted neatly around his neck, and two bands of elastic pinched the shirt's sleeves in. Of course, his appearance wasn't really what struck Mia. No, it was his dark, brooding copper eyes, the yellowish light of the coffeehouse casting a curious glint into his expression.

"Wh-wha…!" was all she could manage to reply.

"I said, where are you off to today? You look nervous." His tone, while kind, made her skin crawl, and his smile grew creepier with every passing second.

"New job," she stuttered, her hands shaking. "I-I'm a l-lawyer."

He chuckled to himself, the smirk widening a bit. "Is that so? Small world." He switched topics abruptly, as if he didn't wish to hear any more. "What do you like to order here, Kitten?"

This guy was just too suspicious for Mia. She adopted a fierce glare and tried to look him in the eye. It was good practice - if she couldn't intimidate a man at a coffee shop, how could she scare a killer? "Stop calling me 'Kitten'! It's demeaning! And… And get away from me!"

At first, the shouting seemed to work, as he shrank back for a moment in shock. Then, the grin returned to his lips, and he regained his posture. "It was just a question… Miss. You're at no obligation to answer." He seemed hurt by her outburst, and Mia hadn't meant to be rude. People were starting to stare.

"Mochaccino." She turned away from him to face the cashier.

For a few minutes, the Kitten guy was silent, perhaps deciding that Mia just wasn't worth the trouble. But lo and behold, when she was only a few businessmen away from placing her order, he tried to speak with her again.

"You deserve better coffee than this crap, you know."

No reply from the Kitten. He tried a second time.

"I make my own blends, if you'd like to-"

Mia faced him, more peeved than fearful. "If you don't mind, I'm _trying_ to count out the correct change for the _senile_ cashier, so I'm not any more tardy than I already am!" She mumbled a curse under her breath and returned to her change purse, trying to figure the amount of tax one would place on a 3.40 cup of coffee.

She was one of those determined types, the Kitten man decided, but that would make this all worth while. He couldn't give up - not yet. "Sorry to bother you, but…"

No response.

"…Do you come here often?"

Mia had grown tired of deflecting the man's questions. It would just be easier to talk to him. She mumbled her answer without turning around, but he managed to hear it. "Not as often as some people, but I come when I need a pick-me-up. You?"

"No," the man replied. "I'm here to pick up a gift card for the office newbie. The poor thing is going to be worked to the bone, so it's more of a consolation than a gift."

"That's nice, I guess." Mia was so close to the front of the line that she could smell the coffee and the barista's nauseating cologne. Her hand tapped nervously against her crisp black suit, and she shuffled awkwardly, hoping that the man in front of her was ordering something small and easily prepared. She cast a nervous glance at her watch: she had ten minutes. _Come on, come on, just get your drink and leave,_ she thought in exasperation.

The sluggish cashier slowly handed the nameless customer his beverage, and Mia took his place in line, uttering silent thanks as the barista asked what she wanted. Even when speaking he managed to prolong things.

"Wel… come… to… Star… bucks… Can… I… help-"

"Small Mochaccino," she barked, slamming exact change onto the counter. "and quickly, dammit!"

His speed seemed to increase slightly with the use of profanity, and Mia fixed her eyes on the pathetic clerk, glaring sharply at him whenever he stopped to cough. After a few minutes of painful anticipation, he set her drink on the counter and waved his next victim on. She was free.

Dizzy with relief, she grabbed the beverage and smiled, not even bothering to use a cardboard sleeve. Unfortunately, the coffee was a thousand degrees hotter than she had expected, and she whipped back her hand in mid-air. Her drink sailed over her head as she slipped on the linoleum floor, and she closed her eyes in preparation of a fall. She let out a silent gasp, frozen in instinctual horror.

A second passed, then another. She should've hit the ground by now. Cautiously, Mia opened her eyes, instantly cringing with the realization that everyone in the Starbucks was watching with worried interest. It was only then that she noticed a gentle force on the small of her back, slowly standing her up. She writhed and twisted free in sudden terror to look at the person helping her.

_Not him. Please, God, not him._

Of course, it was. Shady amber eyes gazed back, and the Kitten guy grinned, centering Mia's balance. He offered her a stack of napkins.

"You weren't hurt, but your coffee wasn't so lucky."

Her eyes flew to her blouse (it _had_ felt a bit warm) and she inwardly cursed the stain that now covered the left side of her shirt. The Kitten guy held out her empty coffee cup sympathetically.

"Today's not your day, apparently. It's okay, though. I'm having one of the more competent baristas get you a new one-"

"Shut up! Just… _shut up!_ It's _not_ going to be okay! I'm late for work, my suit is ruined, and I have a _creepy, coffee-obsessed pervert_ stalking me! So excuse me if I'm a bit too pessimistic for you, but one free mocha won't make up for a day chock-full of crap!" To punctuate her rant, she slapped the paper cup from his hand and ran from the store, trying not to break her wobbly high-heels.

Silence gripped the Starbucks, the awed crowd of caffeine addicts mentally judging the Kitten guy. He said nothing, but dejectedly cleaned Mia's Mochaccino from the floor. Though this first attempt to meet her could scarcely be called successful, he would have other opportunities. Not bothering to address the patrons, he paid for her second beverage and fled, hoping to catch her in the parking lot.

XXX

"…And that's pretty much all you need to know, m'dear." The older lawyer shrugged and smiled warmly, his features barely visible below his puffy moustache. He motioned to an office, two desks crammed together in an effort to save space. "The unoccupied half is yours. You'll be working with Diego. Go get your stuff and spruce it up; it'll be your home away from home."

Mia squeezed behind her new desk, marveling silently at the clutter of her mentor's workspace. She was never a neat freak, but this Diego definitely had some organizational issues to work out. "Will I know him when I see him?"

"If you're as perceptive as you seem, I'm sure you'll be able to spot him. He's quite a character." Grossberg turned and waddled away, closing the office door behind him.

A small envelope on Mia's desk caught her attention. It was a pale brownish-greenish color, and a logo had been printed on the back. Her eyes widened as she recognized the Statue of Liberty head and circular lettering. Praying that it was just a coincidence, she tore the packet open, revealing a Starbucks gift card and a folded-up note. She straightened the message and read it to herself, the handwriting formal, but clearly written and revised several times.

_Mia-  
I'm so sorry about the accident at the coffee shop today. I wanted to make it up to you, but you left too quickly. I hope this helps._

Sincerely,  
Diego

At the bottom, a few words had been scribbled in blue ink, clearly added as an afterthought.

_But you're welcome to my blends anytime you wish._

Mia went white and felt her jaw drop. "Ohmygod…" The paper fell from her loosened grip, and she collapsed into the plastic chair waiting under the desk. The office door clicked and began to open, and she whirled around, mortified. As soon as the newcomer spoke, she felt her throat tighten and head throb.

"Hello, Kitten. Did you like your present?"


End file.
